Chapter Two
Six months later.....
"Miss Dawson, could you please repeat your lines once more." The director was starting to get impatient.
"Certainly." Rose cleared her throat. The director yelled for her to begin her lines.
"I told you already Mr. Thompson, I will not do anything that isn't involved in my job description. I am not your maid." She turned and flipped her hair at the Male actor 'Mr. Thompson."
"Susan. I beg you, please. Just for tonight. I know that this isn't what you usually do, but my maid is sick and I have an important dinner guest. Please. I'll pay more than your salary."
Rose turned. "I'm the nanny of your children, not the housekeeper. No amount of money could change my mind."
The man took initiative and grabbed her arm and pulled her into an embrace. "Not even this?" and he kissed her passionately. At least, it seemed to be on the screen it would play on.
"okay, that's it for today. Nice dress rehearsal everybody." Rose pulled away from him.
"Maybe we should try it again later at my apartment Rosey? What do you say?"
"Not in a million years Harry." She looked at the director. "Is that all for today?"
"Yes. You can go now. See you bright and early tomorrow."
"No problem Mr. Tate."
"Please Ms. Dawson it's perfectly alright to call me Colin."
"Not until you call me Rose." She smiled. "Night Mr. Tate." She opened the theater door and headed to where her little dressing room was. It wasn't really a dressing room, just a closet that was converted to hold her costumes and her purse. She stepped inside, changed into her normal clothes and headed toward the exit.
She had been working in this theater for 2 months now and although the pay wasn't the best, she was happy she had a job. She had been working bit parts and this was the first leading role she had gotten. She was hoping that next; she'd try for a picture.
It was October 30. she could sense the glee in the eyes of the children she passed. Somehow they all looked like they could be her child... Jack's and her's. Nobody knew she was on Titanic. She didn't want people to feel sorry for her.
She saw her mother once. She had shown up for one of the plays. She was thankful that she only had a small 2-line part and she had worn a wig. She was sure her mother would have recognized her. She also had seen Cal. He had a beautiful new fiancé, or so she had read. She was this young little blonde thing that sat with her chin in her hands as she watched the play. She couldn't have been more than 15. But, not even her name in the program had got a rise out of them. She hadn't seen them since. New York was awfully far away from Philadelphia. Well, it was to her mother.
She was thinking so deeply that she didn't even realize that she was headed straight into a head on collision with a man walking in front of her. She whacked into his shoulder and she fell to her backside. He tripped and dropped the portfolio he was holding.
"Are you okay miss?" he asked without looked at her.
"I'm fine." She started to get up and the man offered his hand. She took it. "Thank you." She couldn't see his face underneath his hat. He simply tilted it a bit, picked up his portfolio and started to walk again. Rose started to scoff after him, but changed her mind, knowing that it had been just as much her fault as his. She shrugged her shoulders and kept walking home.
Jack was so busy thinking about the 100 dollars in his pocket that he didn't even realize that he wasn't watching where he was going. He collided with her shoulder and sent her to her bottom and he tripped slightly, dropping his portfolio.
"Are you okay miss?" She started to rise. He didn't even bother to look at her. She was probably just like all the others. A stuck up actress. He offered his hand. She took it and got up.
"I'm fine, thank you." He tipped his hat and left before she could ream him out for not watching where he was going, picking up his folder in the process. He didn't even look back. They were all the same. They weren't Rose.
His little apartment wasn't much. Just a little room. The latest drawing he had shown the man at the gallery had been very impressed with it. He offered him a hundred bucks for it. That was almost more money than Jack had ever seen. He had enough to keep him going for a while. When he had first left the dock, he thought everything was hopeless. Then he realized he was a hypocrite. He had spent the last time with Rose telling her off for giving up; well he was going to take his own advice. The first thing he'd done was get a job at that dock, making a few bucks a week unloading ships. He eventually learned of a room from a buddy, and it was affordable. For a while he had been sleeping at the dock. The room had been furnished with a bed, a desk and a chair. He had eventually found a lamp in the garbage and scrounged up enough money for new drawing supplies. He still worked at the dock at night and spent the days sleeping and trying to sell his drawings.
This had been the first real genuine offer. His boss at the dock had offered him 3 bucks to do a portrait of his daughter and he could sleep in the attic for the night afterward. The portrait was great and the attic, although he only had a thin blanket and worn pillow. After that, he had mentioned a little room for rent and offered to help him out until he had the money to pay for it on his own.
Now he could pay him back for his kindness. The man at the gallery said that if he could bring him more real life drawings he would pay him more than just a hundred dollars. He couldn't imagine actually making a good living off of doing something he loved so much.
He laid back on his bed and thought about the last 6 months. How he missed Rose. No other girl could compare and never would.
Six months later.....
"Miss Dawson, could you please repeat your lines once more." The director was starting to get impatient.
"Certainly." Rose cleared her throat. The director yelled for her to begin her lines.
"I told you already Mr. Thompson, I will not do anything that isn't involved in my job description. I am not your maid." She turned and flipped her hair at the Male actor 'Mr. Thompson."
"Susan. I beg you, please. Just for tonight. I know that this isn't what you usually do, but my maid is sick and I have an important dinner guest. Please. I'll pay more than your salary."
Rose turned. "I'm the nanny of your children, not the housekeeper. No amount of money could change my mind."
The man took initiative and grabbed her arm and pulled her into an embrace. "Not even this?" and he kissed her passionately. At least, it seemed to be on the screen it would play on.
"okay, that's it for today. Nice dress rehearsal everybody." Rose pulled away from him.
"Maybe we should try it again later at my apartment Rosey? What do you say?"
"Not in a million years Harry." She looked at the director. "Is that all for today?"
"Yes. You can go now. See you bright and early tomorrow."
"No problem Mr. Tate."
"Please Ms. Dawson it's perfectly alright to call me Colin."
"Not until you call me Rose." She smiled. "Night Mr. Tate." She opened the theater door and headed to where her little dressing room was. It wasn't really a dressing room, just a closet that was converted to hold her costumes and her purse. She stepped inside, changed into her normal clothes and headed toward the exit.
She had been working in this theater for 2 months now and although the pay wasn't the best, she was happy she had a job. She had been working bit parts and this was the first leading role she had gotten. She was hoping that next; she'd try for a picture.
It was October 30. she could sense the glee in the eyes of the children she passed. Somehow they all looked like they could be her child... Jack's and her's. Nobody knew she was on Titanic. She didn't want people to feel sorry for her.
She saw her mother once. She had shown up for one of the plays. She was thankful that she only had a small 2-line part and she had worn a wig. She was sure her mother would have recognized her. She also had seen Cal. He had a beautiful new fiancé, or so she had read. She was this young little blonde thing that sat with her chin in her hands as she watched the play. She couldn't have been more than 15. But, not even her name in the program had got a rise out of them. She hadn't seen them since. New York was awfully far away from Philadelphia. Well, it was to her mother.
She was thinking so deeply that she didn't even realize that she was headed straight into a head on collision with a man walking in front of her. She whacked into his shoulder and she fell to her backside. He tripped and dropped the portfolio he was holding.
"Are you okay miss?" he asked without looked at her.
"I'm fine." She started to get up and the man offered his hand. She took it. "Thank you." She couldn't see his face underneath his hat. He simply tilted it a bit, picked up his portfolio and started to walk again. Rose started to scoff after him, but changed her mind, knowing that it had been just as much her fault as his. She shrugged her shoulders and kept walking home.
Jack was so busy thinking about the 100 dollars in his pocket that he didn't even realize that he wasn't watching where he was going. He collided with her shoulder and sent her to her bottom and he tripped slightly, dropping his portfolio.
"Are you okay miss?" She started to rise. He didn't even bother to look at her. She was probably just like all the others. A stuck up actress. He offered his hand. She took it and got up.
"I'm fine, thank you." He tipped his hat and left before she could ream him out for not watching where he was going, picking up his folder in the process. He didn't even look back. They were all the same. They weren't Rose.
His little apartment wasn't much. Just a little room. The latest drawing he had shown the man at the gallery had been very impressed with it. He offered him a hundred bucks for it. That was almost more money than Jack had ever seen. He had enough to keep him going for a while. When he had first left the dock, he thought everything was hopeless. Then he realized he was a hypocrite. He had spent the last time with Rose telling her off for giving up; well he was going to take his own advice. The first thing he'd done was get a job at that dock, making a few bucks a week unloading ships. He eventually learned of a room from a buddy, and it was affordable. For a while he had been sleeping at the dock. The room had been furnished with a bed, a desk and a chair. He had eventually found a lamp in the garbage and scrounged up enough money for new drawing supplies. He still worked at the dock at night and spent the days sleeping and trying to sell his drawings.
This had been the first real genuine offer. His boss at the dock had offered him 3 bucks to do a portrait of his daughter and he could sleep in the attic for the night afterward. The portrait was great and the attic, although he only had a thin blanket and worn pillow. After that, he had mentioned a little room for rent and offered to help him out until he had the money to pay for it on his own.
Now he could pay him back for his kindness. The man at the gallery said that if he could bring him more real life drawings he would pay him more than just a hundred dollars. He couldn't imagine actually making a good living off of doing something he loved so much.
He laid back on his bed and thought about the last 6 months. How he missed Rose. No other girl could compare and never would.